


Slow Hands

by cuddleefuddlee



Series: baby blue [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, CLOWNTAROU IS HERE, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Time Skip, Sexual Content, background osaaka, komori is just trying to HELP, would u believe me if i said suna's a bigger mess than atsumu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 11:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27969680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddleefuddlee/pseuds/cuddleefuddlee
Summary: Maybe he should've followed Atsumu to Osaka.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Suna Rintarou
Series: baby blue [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981042
Comments: 22
Kudos: 167





	Slow Hands

**Author's Note:**

> part two is here!!!! i meant to write this sooner, but i got caught up with fic commissions. thankfully, i was able to finish this while outlining my next commission! anyway, this fic _technically_ part two of spiderwebs and things that happened in there will be mentioned. HOWEVER, you could probably get through the bulk of this fic without having read that. it's really up to you if you want to though!
> 
> **EDIT:** [a reader on twitter made this beautiful art of suna from this fic! it's so GOOD!!! ](https://twitter.com/xm0097/status/1337234476062150656?s=20)

_Can’t you see what you’ve done to my heart and soul?_

___________________________

Rintarou knows that jealousy is an ugly look on him. He’s caught glimpses of it on his face while walking by windows more often than not which is just plain embarrassing. It’s not like he has any reason to be jealous either. If he’s being honest, he thinks he’s too pretty to be jealous. 

But, that doesn’t stop him from narrowing his eyes as he watches Hinata hop onto Atsumu’s back after they win the game. Rin knows that Atsumu is his own person, that he could never belong to someone — and he would never waste his time trying to convince either of them otherwise — but that doesn’t stop him from craving the easy contact. 

Maybe he should have followed Atsumu to Osaka. 

Rin shoves the thought to the back of his mind as soon as it crosses his mind. They’re still in the middle of the court and he’ll be damned if he lets the Black Jackals see him annoyed because he was too busy thinking about Atsumu. He’s not that much of a scrub.

“Suna?” Komori's hand on his shoulder pulls him out of his reverie. “You good?” 

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, Komori.” 

He just barely catches the smirk on Atsumus face before he turns away and knows, _just knows,_ that he’ll be smug about it; bragging about how he overheard Komori and how he saw him pouting after the loss. 

As much as he wants to hate that stupid smirk, he can’t find it in him to actually do so. 

Rintarou learned long ago just how bright that smile is when aimed at him. It is so blindingly bright that he feels as if he’ll melt under the pressure of it, like he’ll become putty in Atsumus hands once that light shines on him. 

It’s been that way for years and will continue for the years to come. 

Atsumu already has that goddamn grin on his face when Rin meets up with him after they change. It’s still on his face as they walk to the station and ride the elevator to his apartment; not even the comfort of his own home is enough to stop him from fixating on that stupid mouth. 

“So,” Atsumu starts, hands slipping beneath his jacket and fingers dancing across his hipbones. “Was I that distracting during the game?” 

“I hate you,” he hisses back, moving closer with each word. “Have I ever told you that?” 

For the briefest of moments, his smile is replaced with a pout. If Rin wasn’t looking directly at him, he’s sure he would’ve missed it. 

“Plenty of times. But that doesn’t stop ya from sticking with me.” 

___________________________

They’re fifteen when they fly too close to the sun and in turn, have their wings melted. 

Atsumu takes their loss to Itachiyama _hard_. Rin watches as the blond curls in on himself, ignoring everything and everyone around him and diving deeper into his thoughts with each moment that passes. No even Osamu is able to get through to him for more than a minute. 

Rin steals the seat next to him on the bus ride back, rolling his eyes when the other twin shoots him a look. They sit in silence for most of the trip, content with nothing more than sharing a pair of headphones and letting Rintarou pick the music. 

It’s only when they reenter the prefecture does Atsumu place a hand on top of Rin’s. The air feels heavy around them, like they crossed another line in their friendship that they never bothered looking at. 

He takes another leap of faith. 

“Want to come over after we get back?” 

“Sure,” he replies, not even looking away from the window. 

It shouldn’t surprise him as much as it does when Atsumu tugs on his sleeve, never looking up from his locker. They’re alone now, everyone else filing out of the locker room and back to their homes to sulk before coming back in a few days with a new fire under them. 

He leans against his own locker, eyes still on the broken boy in front of him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, too afraid to break the bubble around them. “I should’ve gone after more—”

The first press of lips against his own takes him by surprise. They’ve been doing this dance for months and yet, this feels so much more intimate. He feels the second press of lips, this time with teeth nipping at his lower lip, asking permission. It takes less than a second for his mouth to fall open and welcome Atsumu. 

It feels like they stay like that for hours, exploring each other's mouth like it’s that first time all over again. The coolness of the locker underneath him is the only thing keeping his neck from sweating. Eventually, Atsumu pulls away just enough for them to breathe. 

“Do you trust me, Rin?” The words dance across his lips, soft puffs of air that breathe life back into him.

“Of course I do,” Rin replies. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” 

___________________________

Rin learned years ago that fucking Atsumu was the only time his mind was able to process this thing between them. 

Not that that meant he wasn’t concentrated on the actual task, because he _was_ , but because being buried so deep in the blond allows him to really think about Atsumu without the other catching onto him. It’s one of the few times those golden eyes aren’t prying into his soul. 

Even now, with Atsumu moaning underneath him, something swells in his chest. There’s the obvious smug pride of having _the_ Miya Atsumu reduced to nothing more than a writhing mess all because of some well-placed hands. But next to that, there’s something else. It makes Rin want to take his time, makes him want to draw this out and turn it soft.

“ _Rin_ ,” Atsumu whines, hands trying to grab at the man above him. “Rin, _please_.”

Even with tears clouding Atsumus eyes, Rin can still see them sparkling at him. Atsumu looks beautiful like this, strung out and desperate for a touch only he can supply. The pride swells tenfold in his chest. 

He leans down for a chaste kiss, breathing in the sigh that leaves the other's mouth. “I’m right here, don’t worry.”

___________________________

“You really need to buy food when I’m not here to get it for ya,” Atsumu mentions while Rin watches him move around the kitchen from the island. “Don’t ya know how to cook for yourself?” 

He does, but that doesn’t stop Atsumu from making himself at home in the kitchen every time he’s in Hiroshima. Plus, there’s something in Rin’s chest that flutters to life whenever he sees the blond in his kitchen. It almost looks like he’s at home when cooking for him. 

“I cook for myself all the time,” he replies. “Should I start sending you food pics to prove it?” 

“Don’t be a brat, ya scrub. Come over here and help me instead of using me as ya personal chef” 

Rin slides off of the island and holds a hand out between them, waiting for the other to hand him something to work with. Atsumu passes him a pack of mushrooms, fingers brushing against Rins palm. 

The moment lasts less than a second but Rin allows himself to indulge in his thoughts. Atsumu has always had beautiful hands. Long, strong fingers that he shaped specifically into being the best support system for his spikers. The amount of care he puts in to keep them in top shape is almost obsessive. 

He indulges himself some more. Rintarou is perfectly aware of how powerful those hands are. They’ve both held him up and brought him to his knees on the same day. They are hands that shouldn’t be taken so lightly in any situation. 

“You still like your tamagoyaki sweet, right?” 

“Yeah, how did you remember?” 

He sees a smile spread across Atsumus face. 

“It’s the only time you said my cooking was better than Samus.” 

___________________________

There’s a ringing coming from somewhere in his room and it hasn’t stopped for the last five minutes. Rin manages to ignore it for the first minute or two, but sooner rather than later Gwen Stefani spelling out banana is enough to make him grab his phone and answer it just to hang up. 

Not that he has a chance to. 

“What’s ya love language?” 

Atsumu’s voice is loud through the speaker, forgoing any greeting in lieu of asking something ridiculous. Rin should’ve known better when he realized it was the others ringtone that was calling out to him. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Ya know, love languages.” Atsumu counters as if it’s obvious. “How you express love for friends and family and the person you’re dating.” 

At that moment, Rin decides that if Osaka wasn’t so far by car he would get in his own and drive there just to strangle Atsumu for waking him up with this bullshit. 

“You woke me up to ask about some random concept?” 

“It’s not random! Hinata brought it up when we all went out yesterday and I spent all night looking into it.” 

_Of course, you did_ , he thinks. 

“I took a quiz that said mine was touch,” he continues. “So, I made Samu take the quiz last night but he was with ‘Kaashi so I still don’t know what his results were. And now I’m asking you what yours is.”

  
  


___________________________

“Why am I here, Atsumu?” 

Rin can list at least five things he’d rather be doing than apartment hunting with Atsumu in the middle of summer while hungover. They spent the night on Atumu’s balcony drinking straight from too many bottles of wine and sitting far too close for normal friends, but they’ve never had a normal friendship to begin with. 

And now he’s standing in the middle of an oversized bathroom in one of Atsumu’s MSBY shirts and the ridiculous sunglasses that he gifted Rin for his birthday that year while the other inspects the sink. It’s the complete opposite of what he'd normally wear and he looks so damn stupid but it made Atsumu smile so of course, he left it on.

He knows he’s too far gone but this proves it. 

It’s just the two of them in the bathroom, the poor realtor off to answer their phone in the kitchen. It feels intimate, like they’re looking at the place together instead of Atsumu looking for a new apartment for himself. 

Rin swallows the thought before it can consume him. 

“I needed your opinion,” Atsumu replies without even looking at him, fingers trailing over the porcelain. 

“On what?” 

“Whether or not you like it.” Atsumu turns towards him, a grin plastered across his face. “I wanna make sure ya like it since ya always come over.” 

Whatever reply was ready, dies on his tongue. Instead, something plants itself in his chest, roots spreading before he can so much as think of stopping them. It makes his blood run hot. 

Oh. 

_Oh no_. 

At that moment Rintarou realized just how in love with Atsumu he was. 

___________________________

“I think I love you.” 

Each word hits Rin like a punch to the gut, blood rushing so loudly in his ears that he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he misheard Atsumu in the first place. The grip on his glass lessens and distantly he hears it breaking. 

“What?” 

“I think I love you, Rin. Think I have for a while.” 

“I have to go.”

He pushes past Atsumu, slips his jacket and shoes back on, grabs his bag, and barely hears Atsumu saying okay before he shuts the door behind him. Then, he runs. 

He’s fucked, he realizes as he runs to the elevator and collapses against the metal walls, absolutely fucked now that Atsumu voiced his feelings. Rin resigned to never being more than just a friend that Atsumu hooks up with when they’re in the same city years ago. So why, God why, did he have to ruin all of the walls Rin put up to stop himself from being hurt? 

This isn’t fair, he thinks, this isn’t fair to all of the time he spent convincing himself that they’re friends, that he’ll be by Atsumu’s side even after they stop fooling around and Atsumu settles down with someone else. It’s not fair that it only took five words for all of that work to come crumbling to the ground. 

He’s still on the floor of the elevator by the time it arrives at the lobby. God, if any of the other residents saw him now he would never get over the mortification. It takes a few moments for him to pull himself off of the floor and when he manages to stumble out of the elevator he pats himself on the back for not turning around and going back to Atsumu.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and sighs. The last train left ten minutes ago which means he’ll have to sit in the back of an Uber pretending not to cry. He accepts his fate and taps into the app. 

  
  
  


Komori catches him in the lobby of their hotel, brand new towels in hand, and a smile on his face. 

“Hey, Suna,” he greets with a wave. But it doesn’t take long for him to realize that something’s off. “Are you alright?” 

All Rintarou can do is shake his head and dig the heels of his hand into his eyes. Distantly, he hears the receptionist ask if everything’s okay and thankfully Komori’s there to distract her as he pushes both of them towards the stairs. 

It’s only when they step into their shared room that either of them speaks for the first time since the lobby. The libero shoves the clean towels he was carrying into Rintarou’s arms and tells him to take a shower before a syllable could so much as leave his lips. 

Rin is only given a few moments of peace before the inevitable happens. 

“Did you wanna talk about it?” 

A sigh. “Not particularly.” 

“That’s cool too,” Komori says. “We can just chill if you want.” 

He’s thankful for this friendship with the libero. Things are simple, uncomplicated when it comes to them. They understand each other and don’t push when they know not to. It’s the main reason why they room together for away games. 

“You know, Kiyoomi used to think you hated him.” 

Rin freezes. 

“Sakusa? Why would he think that?” 

“The same reason I thought Miya hated me.”

“Tsumu doesn’t hate—”

He cuts himself off before he’s told that he’s wrong because he knows Komori has a point. Atsumu never bothered to hide his glances at the brunette since he joined the team. He always stood close enough that it definitely seemed too close to those who didn’t know them. The way he never cared enough to keep a conversation going with the libero unless Sakusa was there. 

Atsumu didn’t hate Komori, no. He was _jealous_. 

The realization hits Rintarou across the face and when he looks at the person next to him, there’s a knowing smile on his face. Komori doesn’t say anything more about it and instead, turns the tv on so they can veg out and watch whatever movie is playing. Rin makes a mental note to thank him. 

  
  
  


When Rin wakes up the next morning, he feels like shit. Which, for what it’s worth, is the understatement of the year. His eyes are swollen from crying, there’s an emptiness in his chest, and he knows, just knows, that his phone is going to be filled with too many messages from his best friends about what happened. 

The overwhelming sense of doom makes him want to turn back over and go back to sleep. 

But he knows he’ll have to face reality eventually and the sooner the better — especially when he knows he’ll have to look at himself in the mirror when it’s all said and done. 

He ignores all of the notifications, goes directly to Osamu’s contact, and presses the little green phone. 

“Speak of the asshole,” Osamu starts after the first ring. Rin opens his mouth, but the former must have heard it because he speaks again before he can get a word out. “No, ya gonna listen to me before you say anything, got it.” 

It’s not a question and Rin doesn’t give an answer. He hears a door click on the other line then a sigh. 

“Whatever the hell happened last night, is your mess. I told ya years ago that if the two of you broke it off that Tsumu is my priority. So whatever happened, you’re fixing it on your own, got it?” 

He should have expected, really. Osamu pulled him aside before practice one day and laid it all out if this exact scenario ever happened. _“No matter what he’s my brother,”_ he said, _“I’ll always put him first.”_ Hearing it repeated years later makes him laugh, a hand coming up to hide it so the other doesn’t hear it. 

“Fuck,” he breathes. “I never thought both twins would hate me.” 

“What happened last night? All Tsumu said was that you came over.” 

Rin scrubs a hand over his face, sighs when he realizes that Osamy is actually waiting for an answer and not some bullshit excuse. 

“He said he loved me and I left.”

A tinny groan comes from the other side of the phone, causing Rin to sink even further into the mattress beneath him. He’s slowly realizing that calling Osamu was the second-worst decision he’s made in the last twenty-four hours. 

“What do you mean you left,” Osamu asks slowly, patience clearly wearing thin already. “Did ya say anything back before you left?” 

He wishes he could give Osamu the answer he wants to, he really does. 

“I said I had to leave then I left.” He pauses. “I didn’t say it back if that’s what you’re asking.” 

Hearing it from his own mouth makes Rin feel even worse. The ache in his chest only gets worse as the words sink in. He single-handedly fucked up everything. Their friendship, their relationship, every memory they’ve created over the years is officially in the garbage because of him.

It’s not until he runs a hand over his again that he feels the tears. He never thought losing Atsumu would hurt this much.

“You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met. Do you realize how shitty that is? Tsumu’s an idiot, sure, but walking out after he finally confessed to ya is the worst thing you could’ve—”

“Don’t you think I know that already? Fuck.” 

He feels his chest tighten again as if the muscles are trying their hardest to hold everything together so it doesn’t spill out. 

“I cleaned your mess up last night because he called me and I came. But, don’t think I’m gonna help ya or anything after this.” There’s some noise on the other end of the phone, words that don’t quite make it through the speaker. “I’m going. Ya better figure your shit out.” 

The line clicks and Rintarou lets the sobs rip through his body. 

___________________________

“Hey, if I ask you something stupid would you still answer it?” 

They’re enveloped in darkness, the only light coming from the moon leaking in and cutting across their legs. If Rintarou looks hard enough, he can see freckles and scars that litter their skin like souvenirs. 

“Is this your idea of pillow talk, Tsumu?” It’s a poor attempt at deflecting the conversation; an awkward but honest try to stop the other from saying something that would pull at his heart.

They’re already in a dangerous position, with Atsumu's back curved against his chest so close that their heartbeats synced up. He’s only one question away from having his own heartbeat speed up and exposing him. 

“I’m being serious, ya jerk.” A foot collides with his shin, small laughs spilling from his mouth. “Don’t laugh. I’m trying to be serious here, Rin.”

He feels his pulse kick up a notch — at least that’s what he thinks until he notices it coming from the body next to him. His breathing is quicker than it was moments ago. As always, he’s too late. Atsumu has already made up his mind and plans to see it through. 

“Has there ever been anyone else?” 

Something deep within Rin’s chest clenches. It feels like that time they went apartment hunting for Atsumu but this hurts. Something in his chest makes him think this is the beginning of the end for them. 

Fear, Rintarou learns, is something that will overshadow certain memories with this person next to him. Even now, with Atsumu plastered to his chest, he feels that fear creeping in. He’s terrified of giving an answer, of tipping the scales, of ruining whatever it is they have going, of revealing too much of himself. 

In the darkness that surrounds them, he ignores that fear for once and decides to be honest. 

“It’s only ever been you,” he promises.

___________________________

Each of Rin’s movements up until he sees Atsumu outside of his apartment are hazy. He’s still not sure why he decided that today, of all days, was the time to finally talk to him again. It just so happened that he woke up, bought a train ticket, and spent the next hour and a half refreshing Twitter instead of figuring out what he was actually doing. 

He feels like even more of an idiot after the front desk told him that he managed to miss Atsumu by a few minutes. Not that it mattered since he decided that he was going to wait outside the other's apartment until he came back. 

He really is pathetic. 

Three months, he realizes, is a long time to not talk to someone — especially if you spent the better half of your lifespan talking to them every day. He checks their conversation, sees that the last time they spoke was when they made plans for the day everything went wrong, and clicks out of it. The last thing he needs right now is to cry over Atsumus overuse of emojis.

He has time to kill and decides to go through his other conversations. 

His taps into his conversation with Gin, wincing when he reads the _man the fuck up and talk to him_ from last week. Next, he taps into Kita’s conversation, the _do what you think is right_ staring back at him from the day before. He takes the chance and goes into his conversation with Osamu, sighing when he sees _figure your shit out before you even think of seeing him_ from two months ago. 

He sighs and taps into his messages with Komori. _over/under the chance that tsumu will ignore me when he sees me in front of his apartment_ , he types and sends off before he can rethink it. Almost instantly three dots show up on the screen and a moment later, a new text bubble that says _i’m sorry, ur in OSAKA?_ The smallest of smiles cross his face for the briefest of moments as he goes to type a response. 

The elevator dinging brings him back to the present, tearing his eyes away from the screen and onto the person stepping onto the floor. 

It feels like all the wind is squeezed out of his lungs. 

Atsumu looks exactly the same as he did three months ago. Except, he looks just this side of happy. It’s like he’s finally no longer burdened by something on his shoulders. 

And Rintarou knows he’s about to fuck all of that up by showing his face for the first time in three months. 

“Hey.” 

The surprise written on Atsumu’s face is enough to make Rintarou curl in on himself; his grocery bag crashing to the floor and spilling far too many apples for one man to eat just makes him feel even worse. There’s an awkward tension filling the space around them as they stare at each other. It makes him want to run away as fast as he can and not turn back. 

“What are ya doing here?” 

“Are you going to let me in?” He stands from his spot in front of the door, legs shaky and nervous. “I didn’t take a train all the way here just to sit in the hall then go home.”

He’s being rude, but he can’t help it. All of those thoughts from that night are rushing back to him and reminding him of everything he did wrong. They’re mixing with everything he thought of saying over the last three months and confusing themselves in his mind. 

Atsumu nods and lets him help gather the apples running away from them. 

The door is barely shut for a moment when the blond turns to him, hurt and confusion written across his features. 

“We’re inside. Are you gonna tell me what you’re doing here now?”

“You told me you loved me—”

“And you left. There’s nothing to talk about, Suna.” 

Hearing Atsumu call him _Suna_ instead of _Rin_ is harsh on his ears. It sounds like things are final, like there’s no going back after everything that’s happened. For a moment, he unlocks the door holding back his emotions. 

“Can you shut up for one second and listen?” He takes his time breathing, trying to sort his thoughts before vocalizing them. “I’m sorry for leaving that night. It was a dick move.” 

Slow and steady, he thinks, is the best way to approach this. Rin is still battling his own thoughts and attempting not to spill everything without some sort of filter, so starting small is best. There’s nothing left for him to say but the truth — and that terrifies him.

“It was terrifying hearing you say it. I was scared because what if everything changed and we ended up never speaking to each other again.” He’s looking just past Atsumu, too afraid that he’ll look at those eyes and completely crumble. “So, I left before you could say anything else.” 

Fear is something Rin tries not to concern himself with. It’s something that only serves as a distraction from the things he truly needs to concentrate on. Fear is a mind killer that he has managed to ignore until this year and he hates every second of this feeling. 

He feels like everything he has ever wanted is slipping through his fingers like sand, so he clutches them as tight as he can. 

“I haven’t seen or talked to ya in three months,” Atsumu's voice sounds fond, soft almost. Something starts blooming in Rin’s chest before he can stop it. “And then ya show up out of nowhere, sitting in front of my door like you belong there. What do you want me to say, Rin?” 

_Rin_. His name falls between them like a drop in a river, causing ripples that wash along the banks. 

“I don’t know.” He shuts his eyes. “I don’t know, Atsumu. I just wanted to tell you.” 

He wonders if this is what Atsumu felt like that night, like all four walls are closing in on him with no way to stop it. Getting out of this apartment and back to his own in order to save face is the only thing he can do now; he’ll be damned if he cries in front of Atsumu. 

“Give me your hand.” His voice is closer now. Rin feels like he can reach out and touch Atsumu with how close he sounds. 

Instead, he opens his eyes. 

“What?” 

“Just give me ya damn hand.” 

This feels like some sort of carnival mirror reflection of their younger selves like the roles are reversed from that time in the gym all those years ago. At this point, he’s half-convinced this is some sort of fever dream of his. It wouldn’t surprise him with how often he dreams about them. 

So, he does as he’s told for once in his damn life and places a shaky hand in Atsumu's palm. 

What shocks him into reality is the feeling of lips brushing against his knuckles. _This_ , he thinks, _this is real and is happening_. Up until that moment, watching Atsumu move was like a dream. But now he knows for sure that it’s actually happening. 

“I’m not forgiving ya just yet. But, I need to know how you feel about me. About us.” 

_I think I love you_ , echoes in his mind. 

“I think I love you too.”

It’s not until hours later when their emotions litter the spaces around them and both of them have bared their hearts to the other, does Atsumu finally make a joke about how stupid they both are. It makes Rintarou shove off of the couch, but not without a smile on his face. 

___________________________

The first year away from home shows Rintarou how dependent he was on Atsumu. Living in Hyogo was easy enough because he had some sort of support system even if his family wasn’t there. 

Now he’s all alone in a city he’s only been to a handful of times. 

The neon lights from the billboard outside dance across his empty living room, across his body from where it lays on the hardwood floor. It’s just him, this room, and the looming question of whether or not he made the right choice. 

He knows that he comes off as indifferent, emotionless, like nothing ever gets to him. And now he finds that mask cracking at the seams, crumbling into nothing but dust all because he’s surrounded by nothing except for this empty room and his thoughts. 

The sound of his phone vibrating next to his face makes him sigh. He waits one, two, three more rings before finally answering. 

“Sunarin!” He greets, a welcome reprieve from his thoughts. “Whatcha doing over there?” 

It’s pathetic, he thinks, that hearing a familiar voice can practically bring him to tears. But, Atsumu has always showered him that warmth so this comes as no surprise. He can’t help but laugh at himself. 

“What’s so funny? Are ya laughing at me? ‘Cause I swear I’ll hang up on ya, Rin.” 

Maybe, just maybe he can do this. 

“It’s nothing,” he replies. “Tell me about Osaka.”

___________________________

Rintarou wakes up one morning to a ceiling he recognizes but knows isn’t his own. He knows this bed, these four walls, the way the sun filters in through the window. And even though he recognizes where he is, his body jolts up, blankets pooling in his lap.

The clock on the nightstand blinks 9:43 back at him when he glances at it. He tries not to groan for waking far too early on a weekend. 

“ _Rin_ ,” a voice mumbles next to him. “Rin, come back.” 

An arm snakes around his hips and tugs in an attempt to drag him back into the comforts of the bed, into the comforts of the warm body next to him. When he turns to look at Atsumu, he stifles his laughter. The blond has his face squished against a pillow, mouth in a pout, and eyes still shut. 

He looks ridiculous. He looks adorable. 

“Rin, I’m begging ya to get back under the covers. It’s too early to start that day.” 

“We both know you can beg better than that,” he teases, settling down next to the other.

Love, Rintarou learns, is something that can very well break him to his core on the worst of days and have him walking on clouds on the best of days. It’s something that he never allowed himself to have, but has found himself drowning in for the better part of a decade. 

He’s still amazed that someone like Atsumu was the one to teach him this. 

Atsumu snuggles closer to him, seeking the warmth as if he wasn’t a human furnace himself. Rintarou doesn’t complain.

“Can’t ya spoil me just this once?” 

The sight of this Atsumu, one that’s soft and pliant, warms his chest. It reminds him of the box that’s sitting in his jacket in the hallway closet, of the ever-present thought that they can have this forever, that they can share this room. 

Maybe, just maybe, the time is finally right. 

“Just this once, alright?” 

They have all the time in the world to pretend that they’re not soft for the other when they’re no longer in the comfort of this bed.

**Author's Note:**

> WELL THAT WAS A LONG, ANGSTY TRIP HUH. for those who might be wondering, i've decided to make a loosely connected atsusuna series! this is part two in it and i have three other fics lined up as of rn. as always, feel free to come yell at me over at [twt!](https://twitter.com/sunasimps) on a last note, did anyone catch the dune reference in this fic heheh


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